


You're the secret I desire

by ember_firedrake



Series: Let me see you in your darkness [3]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: (fairly mild knifeplay), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Emotional Constipation, Knifeplay, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7159076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ember_firedrake/pseuds/ember_firedrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A follow-up to "And now I'm ready to feel your hand." Silver approaches Captain Flint after he regains his captaincy.</p><p>Set after 2x02</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're the secret I desire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mistflarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistflarden/gifts).



John Silver watched Flint with no small degree of awe. In just a few harrowing minutes, he had managed to completely undermine Mr. Dufresne’s command, restore the crew’s faith in him, and retake charge of the ship. Flint was in control again, and Silver had to admit the look suited him, as he strode through the ship’s ranks like a wrathful god, commanding the gun squads to obliterate the other ship. Silver could only watch, want and need coursing through him. 

They hadn't had any further _encounters_ since that evening on the Walrus, two days before their encounter with the warship. In the days prior to that encounter, Silver hadn't been able to stop thinking on the spanking he received from Flint, and he'd thought...if he could just experience it again, maybe he would be able to put it behind him. Attractive and alluring as he found Flint, putting himself in that position, even with their rules, wasn't a smart move. Because the more he found himself the subject of Flint’s attentions, the more Silver _wanted_. The more he felt...bound to Flint, in some way. 

He knew Flint would deny it, if Silver had ever raised his concerns. But how else could Silver explain the way he'd carelessly thrown himself overboard to follow Flint’s rapidly sinking form? Oh, certainly, he could reason his actions away after the fact, tell himself it had been the smartest course to ensure his own survival, but the only thought that had filled him as he clung to Flint’s heavy form and clawed his way to the surface was _please. Please let him survive this._

He’d tried to bring up his concerns with Flint, in his own way. Talking of _freedom_ from the pirate’s life, from the sea, from Flint. He'd watched Flint’s jaw go tense at that, and he knew Flint took his meaning. And yet…

And yet, even now as Silver watched Flint retreat to the warship’s cabin, he wanted Flint’s attentions on him again. The past several days, both of them making themselves indispensable to the crew, had felt like an intricate dance of wits between the two of them, lacking only a culmination. It had not escaped Silver's notice that Flint would require him again in order to secure the Urca gold, and perhaps Silver wanted to show Flint other ways in which he could be _indispensable._

Silver set aside his stolen garments from the Spaniard, donning his old clothes in the hope they might remind Flint of their last such encounters. He made his approach along the deck, witnessing Dufresne retreat from the direction of the Captain's cabin like a wounded animal. Few blows smarted worse than those to one’s pride, or so Silver had heard. Personally, having only recently been the subject of the crew’s ridicule, Silver saw little use for it if it stood in the way of his survival. Still, he gave Dufresne a wide berth as the man paced across the ship's deck, before making his way to the Captain's cabin himself. 

Silver knocked on the door—he doubted he would ever have a rapport with Flint that would allow him to arrive unannounced—and upon hearing Flint’s curt response he entered the room, closing the door behind him. 

Flint had managed to obtain a new long coat, black, and leather from the looks of it. The way it settled across Flint’s broad shoulders had Silver's mouth watering. Flint was turned away from him, fingers tracing the spines of books as he catalogued the volumes on the shelf, but after a moment he turned. There was a guarded expression on his face as he took in Silver's presence and appearance. 

“What do you want?” Flint asked. It was more cautious than cold, and Silver would count that as a win, if he was to achieve his hoped-for result. He shifted a moment. The echoes of soreness from the second spanking Flint had administered, as well as what had followed, had all but faded as Silver had endured the stresses of sea battle, shipwrecks, and the crew’s taunting. In truth, he wasn't certain what he wanted, except to have Flint’s attention, all of his focus, on him.

“I wished to congratulate you on regaining your captaincy,” Silver said, and that part was true. A remarkable feat it had been, and Silver could not deny how Flint’s presence, that weight of authority, affected him. 

“That is not all you came here for, I think,” Flint said, his gaze traveling down Silver, taking in the front of Silver's trousers where evidence of his interest was already apparent. 

Silver swallowed. God, but to have those hands on him again, in whatever capacity Flint wished—

“You don't want this,” Flint said abruptly, coldly. 

“Don't presume to know what it is I want,” Silver replied, feeling the situation beginning to slip from him. He took a step closer, wanting to lessen the yawning divide of the expansive cabin. 

“Is it presumption when you told me yourself?” Flint asked. “Freedom from me, you said. Was that a lie?” He was tense, hands twitching restlessly at his sides.

Silver hated having his own words thrown back at him, especially when there was a part of him that wasn’t sure what he wanted. He knew this was dangerous, knew _Flint_ was dangerous, but here he was, stepping closer. “And yet our interests are aligned, and while that is true I see no harm in indulging in something we both enjoy.” Silver said, allowing his voice to drop lower into a suggestive lilt. He canted his hips as he took another step. 

Flint snarled, surging forward into Silver’s space with a rapidity that took him off-guard. Silver found himself caught, leaning back with the warship cabin’s desk pressing against the back of his thighs while Flint crowded into his space. Silver stilled as he felt a press of cold metal against his throat—Flint’s dagger.

Silver’s pulse pounded in his head. When they had taken the warship together, there had been a moment like this, after Silver had taken the bosun’s whistle and nearly woken that Spaniard. Flint had dispatched the waking man quickly, and moments later Silver had found himself pressed between the wall and Flint, that dagger against his own throat and still warm from the life it had just taken. The worst part was, he had felt his body responding at that time too, and only his quick thinking had kept Flint’s attention elsewhere. Unless he _had_ noticed.

Well, Flint would certainly notice now. Silver was well aware of the danger the dagger at his throat posed, yet even as fear fluttered through him, he knew he couldn’t hide the other reaction evident in his body. Not with Flint pressed against him as he was. 

“Tell me to belay,” Flint said. 

Silver drew in a shaky breath, realization washing over him. He recalled what Flint had said last time. _“You need a word. One you can use under any circumstances, at any point in the session. You say it, I’ll stop what I’m doing, and you may leave. No questions, no consequences.”_

It was a strangely liberating feeling as Silver exhaled, a calmness settling through him despite the cool metal against his throat. “No,” he said.

Flint drew the dagger down, the edge hovering a hair’s breadth from Silver’s collarbone. “Tell me to belay,” Flint repeated. 

Flint wasn’t going to harm him, Silver realized. Whether he liked it or not, he knew Silver was his only ally at the moment, and his best chance at shoring up support in order to secure the resources they needed to make another run for the gold. Flint had had multiple opportunities to be rid of him, if that was what he truly wanted. Was it possible, like Silver, that he feared this attachment, this _pull_? What if they were both caught in each other’s undertow, not yet willing to cast the other off?

“No,” Silver said again, voice steady. 

Something in Flint’s eyes flickered, his gaze going intent as he seemed to loom over Silver. Silver felt a slight tug as the dagger’s tip caught in the open V of his shirt, then Flint was looking down, focused on the blade as he efficiently tore through the linen of Silver’s shirt. 

Silver felt himself shiver as more of his skin was exposed to the air, though it was hardly cool. No, it was from the closeness of the blade, his breath catching when Flint paused to press the flat of the dagger against his stomach, his pulse spiking when Flint turned the blade so the edge was touching him. Just the barest pressure, not enough to break the skin, yet strangely Silver felt no impulse to use the word that would end all this. If anything, that threat of danger just made the anticipation greater. 

Flint crouched before him, and Silver was treated momentarily to the image of Flint at a level with his crotch, before Flint was reaching for his trouser cuff. The dagger’s tip caught, and Flint pulled it upwards and out, resulting in a satisfying tear that left half his lower leg exposed. Three more times up one leg, then Flint turned his attention to the other, until Silver's trousers fell in ruined tatters at his feet. 

He was naked save for his boots, cock curving out from his stomach, and that combined with Flint’s clothed state made him feel intimately vulnerable. He wondered, for a moment, if Flint was going to suck his cock. He certainly looked like he wanted to, if the hungry glint in his eyes was anything to judge by. But no, Flint was standing again, sheathing the dagger now that it had served his intended use. Maybe he would make Silver suck _his_ cock—order Silver to his knees, make him keep his hands behind his back while he fucked Silver's face. Silver could not help a small involuntary noise escaping him, caught up in thoughts of all the things he wanted Flint to do to him. 

“ _God_ , look at you,” Flint said. “Already so eager and I've barely done anything.” 

The effect of Flint’s words was immediate, sending a pleased thrill through Silver as his cock twitched. Unconsciously, he reached for himself. 

Flint’s hand caught his wrist in a firm grip. “ _Don’t_ touch yourself,” he said. 

“Are you going to tie me down?” Silver asked, quirking an eyebrow. Though, now that he was thinking about it...that did sound appealing. 

Flint must have seen the rise of color in Silver’s cheeks, though Silver didn't miss the way his own pupils dilated at the suggestion. “Maybe next time. _If_ you can be good, and behave yourself. Now, on the desk.”

The very idea that he could have a _next time_ had Silver eager to obey. He made as if to turn, thinking Flint intended it to be like last time with him bent over the desk’s surface, but a “ _Wait_ ” from Flint had him freezing where he stood. 

“On your back,” Flint clarified. 

Silver felt a shiver run through him, but moved to obey, feeling the rich wood of the warship cabin’s desk pressing against his back. How many courses had been plotted on this desk? How many state affairs had been discussed? A brief thought flitted through his head at what the Spanish government would think of the business now conducted on this desk, and a low, uncontrolled huff of laughter escaped him. 

“What is it?” Flint asked. “Tell me.”

“Just imagining how the previous owner of your coat might react if he could see this.”

A small furrow appeared between Flint’s brows. “That wouldn’t bother you?” he asked.

Silver considered for a moment as he propped himself up on his elbows, smirking as he recalled the outraged shouts of the Spanish soldiers on the beach as they’d tried to recover the ship. “I’m certain I don’t give a fuck what the Spanish government thinks of my bedroom habits, or any government for that matter.” 

For the briefest of moments, Silver saw the corners of Flint’s eyes go tight as if to flinch, but it was there and gone too quickly to be certain if he’d seen it. Flint looked at him, gaze traveling up and down, the expression in those eyes returning to the intensity of before. Silver felt himself flushing under that look. Flint stepped forward until he stood between Silver’s splayed legs. Silver drew a breath as Flint reached forward, his calloused hand touching the side of Silver’s face. Silver recalled how those callouses had felt against his bare skin, fresh from being spanked, and shuddered.

“And what of the rest of the crew?” Flint asked, and it took Silver a moment to realize Flint was continuing their conversation, so focused was he on Flint’s touch. “You must have some care for what _they_ think of you.”

Silver’s breath hitched as Flint’s fingers trailed down his throat, over his collarbone, before moving across the planes of his chest. He let out a gasp as the calloused pad of Flint’s thumb rubbed against one of his nipples. 

“I _don’t_ care what they think,” Silver insisted, even as he arched into Flint’s touch. “Lest— _ah_ —you forget that I allowed myself to be their punching bag earlier.”

Flint gave a wry smile, an echo of the one he’d given Silver as he’d watched from across the mess. “Ah, but you only endured their ridicule because you had a particular aim. You wanted them to _need_ you. So you do care what they think.” 

In truth, Silver didn’t want the crew to need him quite as much as he wanted Flint to need him. And that was a terrifying thought, too close to needing something himself for his own comfort. He shuddered as Flint pinched his nipple, head falling back as Flint bent to lick at the abused flesh. Flint turned his attention to the other nipple, repeating what he’d done, until Silver was trembling with the effort to remain braced on his elbows, and goosebumps had risen on his skin. 

“Imagine if they could see you like this,” Flint said. Silver could feel Flint’s hot breath against his skin, and he tried arching upward to get that mouth on him again. Flint let out a soft chuckle, placing his hand in the center of Silver’s chest and pressing down until Silver had no choice but to lie back fully. “How do you think they’d react knowing you’re spread out on the captain’s desk?”

An edge of fear pulsed through Silver, not unlike the one he’d felt when Flint had the dagger to his throat. But like the dagger, Flint’s words held no bite. Silver could tell, the same way he’d seen the tightening in Flint’s eyes—Flint _was_ bothered by what others thought of him, and he would not do anything to jeopardize his position. The threat of danger was just that, an illusion for the sake of this power exchange they played, and Silver was more than willing to play into it for the sake of what he wanted.

“ _Please_ , Captain.” 

Flint’s eyes darkened, just as Silver had hoped they would. He’d noticed Flint’s reaction last time, when he used the title. And now, having only just recently regained his captaincy, the honorific held new weight. 

“ _Stay_ ,” Flint said, the tone of the command making Silver whimper as Flint disappeared from view. 

Silver let his head fall back against the hard surface of the desk as he heard Flint rummaging across the room. With Flint’s absence, other sensations returned. Awareness of the bruises he’d received earlier that day, now blossoming purple beneath his skin. The slight chill as sweat cooled on his skin, and the way it made the desk stick to the skin of his back. The tremble of his thighs spread and splayed on the edge of the desk, the strain of keeping them propped open, and the way his cock had begun to leak against his belly. 

Silver stared up at the dark beams overhead, noting the iron rings designed to hang hammocks. _God_ , if Flint was serious about tying him up...Silver could imagine all manner of ways to simplify that endeavor. He could loop ropes around Silver’s thighs in order to hold them open while he—

Silver groaned, shifting against the desk. He _wanted_ , and it was growing more difficult not to touch himself. For the sake of any future encounters, however, he would obey, as Flint had directed him.

“I admire your patience, Mr. Silver,” Flint said, voice seeming to curl within Silver’s senses. Silver had been so caught up in his own musings he hadn’t noticed Flint’s approach again, but now Flint was between his thighs once more, and Silver’s breath hitched as he felt a slick fingertip teasing along the crease of his ass. Just as Silver was on the verge of casting all dignity aside and begging, Flint pressed the finger inside.

“Here I was thinking I ought to have blindfolded you so you wouldn’t notice my return,” Flint said as he began to move his hand, finger thrusting deeper with each forward motion. Silver shuddered, letting out a groan at both the sensation and Flint’s suggestion. 

“You’d like that?” 

“ _Yes_ —fuck. _Anything_ , Captain,” Silver said, knowing as he said it that it was true. He knew he had their _word_ , knew he could stop this if there was something he didn’t like, but by the same token he was so desperate for Flint’s attentions that there were very few things he wouldn’t at least consider if Flint were to suggest them. 

Flint made a low, almost feral noise in his throat, thrusting a second finger in beside the first. Silver gasped, hips shuddering on the edge of the desk. He had nothing on which to brace his feet, or he would have lifted his hips in an effort to bear down further on Flint’s fingers. Silver’s own hands clung to the desk beside him, sweat granting him purchase on the wood. His cock ached from the absence of touch, flushed with arousal, and each thrust of Flint’s fingers within him only made Silver more desperate for _some_ kind of contact. Every imagined draft of air was torment on his skin. 

“ _Please_ ,” Silver whined, his pride forgotten. “Captain—touch me, please, I’m—”

He broke off into a cry as Flint pushed a third finger inside him. “But I am touching you, Mr. Silver, unless I’m mistaken.” 

“ _Fuck_ —” Silver cut off the string of curses he wanted to direct at Flint, suspecting those might have the opposite result he was hoping for. “My _cock_. Please—I need…”

Silver swallowed his pleas, already feeling needy and vulnerable. Flint seemed focused on watching his fingers stretch Silver open. His brow was furrowed thoughtfully, as if he'd been posed a mild query and was ignorant to how much this had affected Silver. Flint knew, though, there was a smug set to his mouth when he finally lifted his head again to meet Silver’s eyes. 

“No,” Flint said. It was not said unkindly, but as though they discussed simple ship matters. “I am not going to touch you, nor will you. You will come from my cock or not at all.”

Silver swallowed the whimper that threatened to escape him. “I...I don't know if I can.” 

Flint moved his fingers agonizingly slowly, pressing deep. “You did last time.”

“That was different,” Silver protested, “that was—”

He’d had friction that time, Silver wanted to argue. Recollection washed over him. Silver had been beyond the point of pain, feeling as though he was floating as Flint’s hand had caressed his ass. And then that question: _“You could come just from this, couldn’t you?”_ Had Flint bidden him so, Silver felt he could have done anything in that moment. And then, when he _had_ finally come, the torrent of emotion he'd felt, the relief and the satisfaction amidst the waves of pleasure and pain, knowing Flint had been pleased with him, it had been cathartic in a way he'd never felt before. 

If Flint said Silver would come from fucking alone, then Silver would do his utmost to obey. 

Flint stilled his fingers, staring at Silver’s face as he took notice of the conflict within him. 

“John,” he said, and Silver blinked, meeting his gaze. That Flint had just used his first name was not lost on him, though the significance was murky and unclear to his perception. “Do you want me to belay?”

Silver shook his head, certain of that to his core. “No,” he said. “No, I want _you_.” 

Flint stared, the look he gave Silver bordering on profound. He withdrew his fingers, reaching forward with his other hand to cup the back of Silver’s neck. For a moment, Silver wondered if Flint might kiss him. He thought he would like that, and considered how Flint’s beard might feel against his face. But no—Flint pressed their foreheads together instead, drawing Silver up until his spine was curved and their breath mingled in the space between them. Silver grappled, reaching for Flint’s shoulders for support.

“Watch,” Flint said. “Watch me fuck you.”

Silver looked down obediently, and sure enough the new angle provided him the perfect vantage point to watch as Flint pushed his trousers down. Flint’s cock bobbed out, and Silver stared, all too aware that last time he hadn't really had the opportunity to see it. Flint’s hand moved over it, spreading slick across the flushed head, then he was bringing his hips forward. Silver drew in a short breath as he felt that blunt pressure against him, fought his involuntary instincts to tense as he glanced back up briefly and was met with the intensity of Flint’s eyes boring into his. 

“It's okay,” Flint said, his voice a low rumble. “ _Relax._ ”

Amazing the effect Flint’s tone had on him, as Silver’s body responded to the directive immediately. He let out a long groan as Flint breached him, his eyes fluttering shut as Flint sank deep. 

“ _Look,_ John,” Flint urged. His own breathing sounded more labored, but there was a desperation in his tone that had Silver opening his eyes again, looking down. 

There was something almost mesmerizing about it, watching as Flint would draw back and the length of his cock became visible, staring at the space between their bodies as he thrust forward and it disappeared into Silver’s body once more. Silver’s breath hitched at the stretch of it inside him, the feeling of fullness, before Flint was drawing his hips back again. It felt _amazing_ , but it wasn’t enough. His own cock curved up from his belly, dripping precome, each thrust of Flint’s hips seeming to make it twitch with want, but it _wasn’t enough_. Silver shuddered, sweat making his grip slip on Flint’s shoulders.

“ _Please_ ,” Silver begged. “Please, I’m so close, I just need—” 

“ _Shhhh_ , just watch. Look at how beautifully your body opens for me,” Flint said, drawing back before he rolled his hips forward again. “I want you to see this. I want you to see— _god,_ you feel good. You're so good, John.”

Silver whined, the pitch of his voice going high as Flint’s words sent a spike of lust through him. He felt hazy from pleasure and need building within him. He wanted to be good for Flint. He wanted Flint to _need_ him. He wanted—

“Come on, John,” Flint said, voice going ragged as he thrust harder, pounding into Silver. His breath was hot on Silver’s face, the press of his forehead near painful but Silver didn’t want to lose that contact. “Come for me.”

Silver let out a keen as he convulsed, the force of his orgasm taking him completely by surprise. He came in hot pulses, covering his own torso with his release and some of it landing on Flint’s shirt. Flint continued fucking him through his orgasm, chasing his own pleasure as Silver clenched down on him. Flint’s breaths grew harsher between them, then he suddenly went still, pressing deep as Silver felt a slickness between his thighs. 

Silver was distantly aware he was trembling, his body straining from the discomfort of the position. He felt that pain only in the peripheral sense, however, too caught up in the echoes of pleasure that seemed to shiver along his nerves. He and Flint both panted from exertion, their breaths coalescing. Silver blinked his eyes open, unaware that he had closed them, only to be met with Flint’s gaze, shocked and open as though he’d just seen something unexpected. Or come to some sort of realization. 

Flint drew his face back slowly, almost reluctantly. The hand he had used to cup Silver’s neck he brought around, smoothing hair away from where sweat had plastered it to the sides of Silver’s face. His thumb brushed above Silver’s cheekbone, and Silver realized he was wiping away tears. Silver let out a soft gasp as he felt Flint’s cock slip free of him, biting down briefly on his lip. Flint tracked the movement with his eyes, pupils wide and dark. Silver’s tongue darted out, wetting his lower lip. They were so close to one another, all he had to do was angle his head up just a little…

“James?” Silver ventured tentatively, hoping that might bridge the distance between them. 

That seemed to startle Flint from his reverie, though it had the opposite intended effect. His face shuttered, and he drew back. Silver slumped back on the desk, no longer able to hold onto Flint for support. There was a yawning absence within him that had nothing to do with their physical separation, and it left Silver feeling confused and vulnerable. 

Flint was collecting himself, tucking himself back into his trousers and adjusting his clothing. It was just as much a mental act of closing himself off as it was a physical one, and it made Silver all too aware of his own naked state. Fear prickled through him at the realization of his ruined clothes, wondering how he might get back to his bunk unnoticed.

And worst of all was the way Flint now seemed to hold himself back. Silver was no fool, he could see that Flint wanted more. But he was denying himself, and Silver was reluctant to test those boundaries, especially when he was so unsure of his own footing. It was just like the last time, when Flint had drawn away immediately after their coupling. Silver had attempted to reach out to Flint the following evening after transmitting the last of the _Urca_ schedule. _I’m just wondering where you and I stand_ , he’d said.

To which Flint had coldly replied, _Keep wondering_. 

Silver swallowed, steeling himself, before he pushed himself off the desk. His legs protested, body aching in a myriad of places, but he pushed that aside as he bent to pick up the tattered clothes.

“Wait,” Flint said, his tone soft.

Silver looked up, in time to see Flint turning, going to the cupboards located in the cabin until he chanced upon the captain’s sea chest. He returned to Silver holding a folded shirt and trousers. 

“They may be a little large, but they’ll do,” Flint said. 

There was an apology in Flint’s eyes, one Silver suspected had little to do with the ruined garments. When Silver accepted the clothes with a murmured thanks, there was an acknowledgment in his own face that he understood. He understood, even if he did not fully comprehend.

Flint’s secrets were his own, Silver understood that better than anyone. And whatever past demons assailed him, they prevented his embracing this fully, even if it was something both of them felt. Given Silver’s own reservations, it would be hypocritical for him to expect otherwise. So he understood, even as part of him both wanted and shied away from _more_. 

Silver used the tattered remains of his old clothes to wipe himself clean, then pulled the new garments on. As predicted, they were too large, though they were simple enough and wouldn’t draw attention before he would be able to change once more. 

He was about to move towards the doorway when a hand on his shoulder halted him. Silver turned to meet Flint’s gaze, a tumult of emotion in Flint’s eyes that he couldn’t decipher.

“Until next time, Mr. Silver?”

It was something. It was more than the detached manner in which he’d dismissed Silver last time or his cold _keep wondering_ upon receiving the last of the schedule.

“Until next time, Captain,” Silver said. 


End file.
